She was the catalyst of his fall.
Only when wetness pooled between her skin and Reeve’s fingers did she realize that silent and angry tears streamed from her eyes and coated her cheeks. Electric Magic trickled down her arm, scattered and unstable.
“Mal,” she cried, unable to keep silent any longer. The words spilled from her lips like a broken and begging prayer, soft and defeated. “I’m so sorry.”
Her words landed like a physical blow.
Mal recoiled, his eyes closed sharply, and his face twisted in agony as his fist raised and slammed against the table. Magic rippled in multiple pulsing waves as he stood. Reeve kept them all from landing on himself and Maeve, pulling her flush against him at last.
Mal’s arms raised, and he hunched violently over the table, palms slamming flat against the surface. His fingers retracted in torment, scraping as they clawed into the wood. His eyes were feral as he looked up at them.
But they were not green.
They were dark as night.
Maeve’s chest swelled. Reeve had been right. She had been right. Mal, her Mal, was buried beneath Shadow’s possession, and her Mal’s desire for her was alive, furiously fighting.
Maeve didn’t hesitate. “She’ll drain you dead if you don’t wake up, Mal. Break free of this—of her!”
Mal’s Magic burst from him, encasing the room in a vortex of swirling death. The crystal walls splintered beneath the weight. The force of the winds pinned her to Reeve and dried her mouth as she tried to call out to him once more. Mordred tried to advance to Mal’s side, but was pushed outside the swirling tornado of Magic.
Her arms gripped at Reeve’s, desperate to escape his hold, to comfort Mal, this Mal that finally surfaced. To take his face in her hands and aid him in expelling Shadow’s talons from his mind. She’d slice her palm again and again, she’d bleed out all over again for him—
“My blood,” she rasped, freezing. “My blood,” she repeated, now frantic to slip from Reeve’s grasp. “You can drink my blood, Mal! Take all of it!”
The violent winds of untamed Magic drowned out her desperate cries, but Reeve tensed behind her, his hold tightening, as though he had no intention of letting her do such a thing. His devilish smile had vanished, replaced by the face of a diplomatic warrior, ready to protect.
“Then you could end her! You could unleash Maxius’ power without her influence over you!”
Her pleas, if he heard them, were futile.
Mal’s head dipped back, shielding his face from view. A horrifying call blasted from his lips, overtaking the continuous rumble of wind. A scream so furious that Maeve’s darkened veins hissed in approval. A scream so violent that when his head tipped forward again, and his cold expression returned, his green eyes were more catastrophic than ever.
The room plunged into silence as Mal’s furious outburst contracted back into him. The temperature dropped so significantly that ice cracked across the table towards them, freezing the decanters and pitchers of drinks. Maeve’s exposed skin shot to life. Her lungs burned in the intense freeze. Her bones shook beneath her chilled skin. Reeve’s heat flared against her, attempting to warm her.
The silence broke as Mal made a singular sound: one of amusement. It slowly grew louder, like it was occurring to him what had just happened, until it bubbled into a hysterical, all-knowing laugh. The unsettling sound continued as he lifted his hands from the table and ran them through his dark hair, pushing it back from his forehead.
He stood tall. “You want my obsession, my possession, so badly, Maeve?” he asked, still amused. He pointed a single finger at her, palm up, and beckoned her. “Then come.”
She shook her head, pressing back into Reeve.
To her horror, Reeve’s hold lifted. “Go to him.”
I will not let him hurt you. But you must go to him,he spoke into her mind.
She shook her head again, her eyes locked on Mal’s deadly ones.
Reeve’s hand palmed her exposed back and pushed her into a standing position. The betrayal of his supposed protection stung as he forced her into Mal’s certain cruelty. Still, she did not move towards Mal.
Dark swirls of Magic appeared before her, blackening her view. Icy fingers pressed against her chest, sending her back onto Reeve’s lap. He grabbed her hips, softening the blow as her only free hand gripped the arm of their shared chair. As the mist cleared, Malstood over her, leaned against the table with ease, and held her left wrist in his grasp.
His eyes were on the crystal ring on her finger as she remained trapped between the two of them. Mal’s fingers constricted, and he gripped her wrist with bruising force.
Please stop him, she begged Reeve.
I can’t,he said back.Not without him hurting you.
Tendrils of Magic wrapped her hand, trailing up her ring finger, not piercing her skin, but threatening to. She tensed beneath him, pressing back into Reeve in a useless attempt to escape. She twisted her wrist beneath his icy Magic.
